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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211208">Exodus</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/davonysus/pseuds/davonysus'>davonysus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Lovers, F/F, France - Freeform, HP Fluff Fest 2020, Kissing, Post-War, Secret Relationship, Student Hermione, clueless friends, pubs, student Pansy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:41:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/davonysus/pseuds/davonysus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Hermione finds herself drawn to Pansy Parkinson for reasons she can't quite explain.</p><p>Parkinson is adamant that they won't work out. Hermione's determined to prove otherwise.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>HP Fluff Fest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. PARKINSON</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/iRavenish/gifts">iRavenish</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you iRavenish for the prompt that inspired me to create this, and Fluff Fest for the space to bring it to life!</p><p>(prompt in end notes so nothing is spoiled)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Head down as she quickened her pace, Hermione swore in her head as she realised she would definitely be late to her meeting with Bert Persham. She hadn’t expected the morning trials to drag on that long—though she should have, she was no stranger to Grant’s monologues at this point—so she had only allotted a half hour gap for lunch, which she was now forfeiting. Praying to whoever was listening that Persham would be understanding, she was too busy focusing on her feet to notice the other person rounding the corner towards her until it was too late.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione’s attempt to keep herself upright in the collision involved sacrificing the stack of paperwork she’d been carrying and she sighed, bending down to start collecting it as she muttered an harried apology.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Honestly, Granger. One would think you’d failed Charms.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The files suddenly arranged themselves back in her outstretched hands. Tightening her grip on them, Hermione’s eyes landed on the strappy black heels in front of her as she tried to place the familiar voice. Scanning her gaze up, she took in the perfectly tailored pantsuit in a deep shade of purple, red-lacquered fingertips of one hand around a wand as the other hand braced against the wall, and finally felt a hint of recognition when she reached the black hair cropped close around the girl’s jaw. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Parkinson,” she said as she straightened up, feeling satisfaction realising that even with the heels, she stood taller. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re welcome,” came the sarcastic drawl as Parkinson rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Now if you’ll get out of my way, I’ve got some rather important things to do.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whatever,” Hermione muttered as she sidestepped Parkinson and continued on her way to Persham’s office.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Miraculously, Persham had been held up in a litigation debate and arrived shortly after Hermione did. Her luck ran dry there, however, as she spent most of the meeting forgetting the talking points she’d worked so hard on last night, instead spending her time thinking back to the hallway this morning. Parkinson looked… Well. Her mind kept fixating on how perfectly she fit the pantsuit—rather unhelpfully, if she was being honest—but what she truly couldn’t shake was how haunted Parkinson’s eyes had looked in the brief moments they had met hers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Never had she expected to feel empathy for Pansy Parkinson, yet here she was.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione was satisfied that her Transfiguration work had been more than passable—almost perfect, if she was being honest with herself—and smiled to herself as she watched the final feather on the lorikeet’s head turn blue. The vibrant colours on the bird were a stark contrast to the dull grey stone she’d started with and she conjured a cage to place it in for the examiner. Her spellwork had taken exactly twenty-seven minutes, thirteen less than their anticipated time. Bringing inanimate objects to life required delicate precision along with steadfast focus and Hermione knew that there were few others in her year who could have done such a thing without at least a few extra minutes of fiddling around. Keeping her head down but scanning the room in her peripherals as she walked to exit the Great Hall, she took great pleasure in seeing that every desk she passed still had someone standing behind it deep in focus.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Making her way into the Entrance Hall, she came to an abrupt halt seeing someone standing across from her, clearly having just made their way out before her and waiting for someone else to follow. Upon hearing her footsteps the other girl turned, meeting Hermione’s eyes briefly before dropping her gaze to the stone beneath their feet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She felt a momentary burst of something akin to relief as she saw that Parkinson’s eyes looked significantly less disturbed than they had at the Ministry almost a year ago, before realising the implications of seeing her standing outside the Great Hall. Impressed as she realised Parkinson had managed to complete the Transfiguration NEWT faster than she had, albeit slightly begrudged, Hermione hesitated before speaking.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Parkinson.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eyes snapping up to look at Hermione, Parkinson tilted her head in an acknowledging nod even as her wary gaze stayed locked in eye contact. It reminded Hermione of how she would approach a Hippogriff.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You finished faster than me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Surprise flashed across her features briefly before she straightened up, shoulders squaring off. “Well, it’s hardly my fault that—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not picking a fight,” Hermione interjected at Parkinson’s defensive tone. “I just wanted to say… I’m impressed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This time her surprise wasn’t contained as her mouth dropped open slightly, red-tinted lips forming a perfect “O”.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You… Really mean that?” Her tone was slightly strained, higher than usual. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione quashed the urge to laugh at having caught Parkinson on the defensive and instead offered a small smile and nod. Parkinson looked down as her pale cheeks flushed, biting on her lower lip.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione waited a moment before turning to make her way up to the library, intending to prepare for her Charms NEWT later that day. She made it a few steps before Parkinson called out behind her. “Granger, wait.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hesitant, Hermione turned to see Parkinson looking slightly shocked as if she hadn’t meant to call after her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I… Thanks. You are too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm?” Hermione was distracted by how her lipstick hadn’t been messed up at all by the biting—there wasn’t even a smudge on her teeth. A strong charm, she guessed. Begrudgingly she wondered it Parkinson would also outperform her on the Charms NEWT.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just mean, your Transfiguration is impressive too.” Parkinson said, her lack of eye contact the only giveaway that she felt uncomfortable admitting it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh.” Hermione blushed at that, because it was one thing to know that you were good at something and another completely to have someone validate your work, particularly someone you thought you hated. “Um, thanks, Parkinson.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t mention it,” she said, tone snappy as she inspected her no-doubt perfectly manicured nails. “Like, really. Don’t mention it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione laughed at that, surprising herself. Parkinson looked up and gave her a look as if to say <em>Are you crazy?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Maybe she was, she thought as she walked off up the stairs. Maybe she didn’t care.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you know how long we’ll be waiting?” Hermione asked. “I’m meant to be back in London early tomorrow to meet with Persham and I should probably look over the by-laws one more time tonight so I’m prepared.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Relax, ‘Mione,” Ron said. “Harry’s usually done by three.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s what you said last time,” she muttered, shooting him a furtive glance from behind the foam on top of her Butterbeer. “Besides, it’s already three-thirty.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, well, last time he had to deal with more of the exiles than expected. It looks like it’s just Malfoy left after this one.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sighing, Hermione eyed Ron sloshing Butterbeer over the table and gently placed her pint glass on the table in front of her. “I still don’t understand how the Aurors can’t estimate how many will turn up for observations. Don’t you have a list?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ask Harry,” Ron grumbled. “He’s in charge, isn’t he?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, but I thought you might also have some information seeing as you’re here with him every month.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ron said nothing, gaze pointedly fixed on the coaster in front of him as he took another drink.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pressing her lips together, Hermione hesitated before deciding now wasn’t the time to push it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They sat in slightly-strained silence for a few moments, before Ron placed his glass back on the table.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you see Parkinson’s here with him this time?” He jerked his head to the table where Harry was due to commence the interview process. “Seems they kept it going even after their families were disgraced.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione hmm’d in response, taking a sip of her butterbeer as she followed Ron’s gesture to look for herself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her hair was still cut blunt like it had been when she’d seen her last but the angles of Parkinson’s face were rounder, less harsh. The deep red sheen on her lips was a stark contrast to her icy white skin and drew attention to the way her mouth moved as she giggled at whatever Malfoy had just said across the table. It made Hermione’s breath catch for a moment and she spluttered, the last of her butterbeer going down her windpipe.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You alright?” Ron asked as he hit the back of her shoulders in an effort to help, causing more coughing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She smiled weakly, eyes fixed at her hands gripping the pint glass instead of where they wanted to look. Parkinson seemed… happier, she reasoned. That’s what had shaken her. Relaxed, less guarded than she had been when they’d last spoken. Of course she didn’t have her walls up when she was talking to Malfoy—it was the same as Hermione would be with Ron—but it made something twist inside her stomach just the slightest bit. <em>Probably the Butterbeer, </em>she reasoned, pushing away the memories that threatened to rise from NEWTs all those months ago.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Meeting Ron’s gaze she saw the concern in his eyes and placed a hand over where one of his rested on the table. She was glad they still had this, even after realising friends was all they would ever amount to. “I just… I didn’t realise she had been exiled as well,” Hermione said. “Surprised me, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ron laughed at that. “Thought you’d missed something? That’d be the day.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She gave him a weak smile, still confused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nah, she wasn’t sent off. From what I’ve heard most of them left anyway though, y’know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why though? Why leave if you don’t have to?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ron’s brow furrowed as he took another swig of his Butterbeer. Placing it in front of him, he placed a hand over hers once more, speaking gently. “Think about it. If me and Harry got sent away and everyone hated us, would you stay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. “Surely she’s got other friends?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Probably. I don’t think it’s that easy though.” He shrugged. “I mean, we get enough attention out these days and it’s for a good reason. Imagine if it wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione looked over at Parkinson, her eyes intently focused on Malfoy as he spoke. She looked at him the same way Ron had at her just moments ago. Concerned, but with a deep love and understanding that comes with knowing someone most of your life.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Turning back to Ron now, she shook her head. “I can’t imagine if that were us right now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, well.” Grimacing, Ron scratched at a freckle on his wrist as he avoided eye contact. “It’s not us. They kinda deserve it for being shit.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mmm.” Even as she nodded, Hermione couldn’t help glancing back over at where Parkinson sat. That feeling in her stomach was getting harder to ignore now, twisting about and making her feel uneasy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She tuned out most of Ron’s next words—something about how much paperwork the observations were causing—as she instead watched Harry make his way over to the other table, abruptly halting the conversation between Parkinson and Malfoy. They looked understandably wary; even Hermione had to admit that Harry commanded attention in his red Auror robes. After a few whispered words from Malfoy, Parkinson nodded and stood, taking her leave towards the bathrooms.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Did she dare follow? It was one thing to run into each other accidentally a few times, but to initiate conversation… Well. If there was anything Hermione had learned in the past few years it was that not only was she braver than she thought, but that people still had the capacity to surprise her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stopping Ron mid-sentence, Hermione excused herself from the table and hesitantly made her way across the pub. With every muffled thud of her boots she felt her heart beat slightly faster and found herself taking deep breaths as she paused outside the bathroom, listening to the running water and hoping desperately that Parkinson was the only other witch in there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As she heard the taps stop running, Hermione cast a quick <em>Muffliato</em> as she took a step into the bathroom and met brown eyes in the mirror above the basin on the opposite wall. She watched initial shock give way to her usual irration as Parkinson smoothed out the front of her deep blue robes, rolling her eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Granger.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Parkinson,” Hermione responded as she made no effort to move out of the doorway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sighing, Parkinson turned before crossing her arms over the front of her robes. “I don’t really want to deal with this right now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just want to talk.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“With your wand drawn? Sure you do.” Parkinson sighed, tapping her fingers against her upper arm. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Red nails again, </em>Hermione noticed as she slid her wand up her left sleeve. The shade perfectly matched her lip colour which no doubt was charmed to stay flawlessly in place. She would need to find out how to do that herself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whatever it is, can you be quick? Draco’s waiting for me and I’d rather not leave him with Potter any longer than necessary.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh,” Hermione said. “It’s actually about him. Malfoy, I mean.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Parkinson’s jaw clenched visibly at that. “What, come to rub it in?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I just…” Trailing off, Hermione frowned as she decided on how to word her thoughts. “I didn’t realise you had to move out of England too. Was it long after he left?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s it to you?” Parkinson asked, jutting her chin out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not—I don’t know.” She admitted with a sigh. “Ron said you were getting treated horribly and that’s why you decided to leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t realise Weasley paid so much attention to us lowly Slytherins,” Parkinson sneered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s hard not to notice you.” The words were out before Hermione quite realised what she was saying and she gasped, feeling the panic rise in her chest as she began to backtrack. “I mean, no, I mean that, um, he’s training with the Aurors, right? So it’s his job to pay attention.” <em>Oh Merlin, stop rambling, </em>she cursed inwardly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right…” Parkinson looked torn between amusement and concern. “So, you’re saying that the Aurors are watching me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I just—oh, bugger it.” Hermione sighed. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I find it hard enough being followed when I leave the house, or being away from my friends, and none of us are banned from crossing the border. It must have really sucked before you moved closer.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was silence for a moment and Hermione began to fidget with the end of her sleeve as she waited. Parkinson’s expression gave nothing away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Granger…” She paused, biting her lips in thought. “If that’s all, I should really get back to Draco.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh. Of course.” Trying not to show her disappointment, Hermione walked further into the bathroom to let Parkinson pass, stopping only when she’d reached the basin and placing her hands on the edge.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For what it’s worth, I didn’t leave England.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione’s head snapped up to look in the mirror hung on the grimy stone wall in front of her. Parkinson was leaning against the doorway she herself had occupied only moments earlier, brown eyes meeting her own in the reflection.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m here because Draco said it’s one of the few places he can go for a drink without being harassed these days, which I assume is due to the confidentiality around his observations and probably why you’re here as well.” At Hermione’s affirming nod, she continued. “He can’t visit me, obviously. I’m sure you also know he can’t have visitors. So I’m here. Is that enough information for you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um.” Hermione swallowed, feeling uncertain and dropping her gaze at the intensity in Parkinson’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to pry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A hollow laughed echoed off the walls, bittersweet. “Right. No, we’re just having friendly conversation, aren’t we? How silly of me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Parkinson—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you weren’t prying, what was that? An attempt at small talk?” Her voice was raised now and Hermione could see her fists clenching by her side. “Am I supposed to think that after all these years of despising each other, you’ve suddenly had a change of heart?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I never despised you,” Hermione said quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Looking away from the mirror, Parkinson’s jaw clenched once more. “I don’t even know why I’m still here.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Overcome with adrenaline, Hermione straightened up and turned to face the other girl. “Leave then, if you despise me so much.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not sure despise quite covers it, Granger.” Sighing, Parkinson looked back at Hermione. “You’ll be here next month, I suppose?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course. Like you said, it’s nice not being harassed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Great.” Parkinson rolled her eyes even as the corners of her mouth twitched in the hint of a smile. “Guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Winking, Parkinson turned and sauntered back out to where Malfoy was surely waiting, heels clacking on the old tiles with each step. When their sound had become distant enough that Hermione felt certain in the knowledge that she was alone, she slumped back against the low basin and lolled her head back to lean on the mirror. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a moment to replay the end of their conversation before letting out a groan.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was no point denying it. She was absolutely screwed, one way or another.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re all dressed up,” said Ginny across the table from her. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Feeling her cheeks heat up, Hermione fiddled with the coaster in front of her. “This? It’s nothing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not nothing,” Ginny said. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you out of your work or university robes the past few months.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, well, I’m not there now, am I? So obviously it didn’t make sense to—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Relax, Hermione.” Ginny laughed gently as she leaned back against the opposite side of their booth. “You look really nice. It’s just a change, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh.” Smiling meekly, she looked up to see Ron and Neville returning to the table with their next round. “Um. Thanks, Ginny.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione was lying when she told herself that she was putting extra effort in for no reason. That it had nothing to do with Parkinson and their conversation last month. Absolutely nothing. If she’d had to dig all the way to the back of her wardrobe to find this grey slip dress and transfigured her black blazer into a mink coat, nobody needed to know.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Meeting Parkinson’s eye across the pub, Hermione quickly dropped her gaze as she felt her cheeks start to heat up. Taking a sip of the Firewhiskey that had been placed in front of her, she let the drink’s heat wash down her throat as she let out a shaky breath. After a moment she snuck another glance to find Parkinson still watching her, perfectly groomed brows raised as she gave Hermione’s outfit an appraising look.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Still flushing, Hermione watched as Parkinson whispered something to Malfoy beside her before standing up and walking away from their table. She kept her eyes on Parkinson as she made her way towards the bathrooms where she stopped to throw a challenging look in Hermione’s direction before stepping inside.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um, I’ll be back in a minute, Gin.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Barely sparing her a glance as she listened to the boys debating Quidditch tactics, Ginny waved her off and Hermione exhaled shakily before sliding out from behind the booth and following where Parkinson had walked just moments earlier.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stepping into the bathrooms, Hermione saw Parkinson leaning against the wall opposite her and halted as she took in the breathtaking picture painted before her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Got a hot date?” Parkinson asked, eyeing Hermione from head to toe. “I can think of quite a few better venues, even by your standards.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you offering?” Hermione countered boldly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Merlin, no.” Parkinson said. “Just wondering who’s got you all dressed up. It’s not Weasel, is it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ron’s seeing Katie. We’re just friends.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm. That’s what you call friends?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione shrugged. “Same as you and Malfoy, isn’t it? Or are you actually dating him?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The laughter that ensued was unexpected, echoing against the stone walls and startling Hermione for a moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me and Draco? And here I was thinking you had some brains, Granger. No, we would be hell together, even if either of us were…that way inclined.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh.” Hermione perked up slightly at that, feeling her heart start to beat a little faster. “So, when we talked last month…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Parkinson arched an eyebrow as she gave a small smirk. “Why, Granger, don’t tell me that all of this—“ She gestured in Hermione’s direction, “—was for my benefit?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If it was?” Hermione countered, her tone much bolder than she felt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pushing herself off the wall, Parkinson closed the distance between them with a few short strides and with each clack of heels against the stone, Hermione felt her breath get caught in her throat. Parkinson placed one hand on Hermione’s cheek, other coming up to tangle in her hair as she stretched up to whisper in her ear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then you have absolutely no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine as Parkinson brushed lips against her ear before turning her head to catch Parkinson in a kiss that was equal parts exciting and terrifying.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The startled noise that came from Parkinson’s mouth was quickly quieted as they pressed into each other, Hermione’s arms coming up to rest on Parkinson’s waist as she sighed into the kiss she’d been determinedly trying not to think about for months now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As quickly as Parkinson tightened her grip in Hermione’s hair she was letting go, horrified expression on her features as she stepped back and turned towards the door, voice low.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can’t do this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione reached out to grab Parkinson’s wrist, stopping her before she fled. “Why not?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know why.” At Hermione’s blank expression, Parkinson sighed. “You pretty much said it yourself. People don’t like me, not after… Well, everything. First the war, now this exodus. I wasn’t going to follow, but I got a place a La Naeniam and start there next month.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, so you’re moving to France. That doesn’t explain why we can’t—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t get it! We’re being pushed out. Nobody wants the old families to stay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But the exiles only have five years. They’ll come back.” Hermione cringed slightly at the desperation in her voice, but she refused to let Parkinson walk away right now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Doesn’t mean anyone’s happy about it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’ll settle down soon, I’m sure of it. You weren’t even—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you’re about to tell me that I wasn’t sent away, just don’t. Please.” Parkinson’s voice cracked as her eyes started to shine in the lowlight. “Bloody hell, Granger. You can be pretty dense sometimes, you know that? Even if I wasn’t leaving, how do you think it’d look for either of us to be spotted together. You can probably kiss your cushy Ministry job goodbye. And people would accuse me of using you to help my family name. I refuse to let that happen.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The silence stretched on between them as Hermione took this in, realising just how blind she’d been in her pursuit of this new attraction. Letting out a sigh, she released Parkinson’s wrist.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good. This isn’t happening again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With that, Parkinson turned and left Hermione alone with her thoughts. Sliding down the wall she sunk to the floor, curling in on herself. Hermione cursed her heart for letting herself care so much so quickly, and even more for letting Parkinson walk away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Granger? I thought we agreed this wasn’t happening again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Parkinson’s tone was guarded yet there was a questioning edge to it that had Hermione wondering if she wasn’t the only one kept up some nights thinking of that evening in the Dragon’s Den.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m actually not here to see you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Raising an eyebrow, Parkinson crossed her arms across the front of her beige La Naeniam robes. “Sure you’re not. Transferring schools, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hermione rolled her eyes even as she let out a soft laugh, gesturing to the hallway behind Pansy. “No. I’m taking Professor Lagor’s class for extra credit because quite frankly, England is slightly lacking when it comes to foreign aid courses.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You haven’t changed a bit since Hogwarts then.” She cocked her head to the side as she appraised Hermione for a moment. “Aside from the whole snogging-girls-you-hate thing, I guess.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who says I wasn’t doing that at Hogwarts?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please. We both know you were too busy with your face in a book to be getting any.” Even as she said it her jab had less sting to it than usual, corners of her smirk twitching.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think you’ll find I’ve got my face out of books a bit more these days.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Parkinson sighed. “I meant what I said, Granger. This can’t happen.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not even while we’re both in France, miles away from cameras and journalists that care about either of us?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hesitating for a moment as she considered this, Parkinson shot Hermione a sceptical glance. “That’s your solution? Hide from the press?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just until everything blows over.” Hermione shrugged. “We don’t have to tell anyone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not even your Gryffindors? I have a hard time believing that.” Parkinson rolled her eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I won’t if you don’t want me to.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm.” Tilting her head, Parkinson assessed Hermione where she stood across the hall. “Why though? Why us?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I…” Hermione paused, dropping her gaze to look at the sensible black trainers she had taken to wearing for class. “I’m not entirely sure. But I want to try,” she said as she met Parkinson’s eyes with a fiery stare.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Parkinson smirked before crossing the short distance between them, raising up on her toes to place a kiss against Hermione’s mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How often is Lagor’s class?” Parkinson said, as she pulled away slightly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Every Thursday.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Smiling as she pressed forward into their kiss once more, Hermione pushed aside any doubts about entering into a secret relationship with someone she barely knew and instead savoured the moment. For now, this was enough.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. PANSY</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Hermione rolled her eyes with a fond sigh as she watched Pansy take some of the chips that she swore she wouldn’t want from Hermione’s plate. Reclining in her usual chair by the fire—yes, she had noticed that Pansy always left this chair vacant despite the rest of her apartment playing home to clutter—Hermione took a deep sip of tea as she marvelled at how settled into this routine they had both become. She remembered fondly the first Thursday after Professor Lagor’s lectures had ended, when she had opted to stay home in case their arrangement had been conditional of her being on campus. After fifteen minutes of wearing her living room carpet thin as she questioned her decision, the fire had roared green and Pansy had appeared in the grate, the concern on her face quickly giving way to irritation as she realised that nothing had happened to hold Hermione up other than her own overthinking. It had become clockwork after that; just as it had become second nature to fall into step behind Pansy after her lecture finished for all those weeks, it was now tradition to Floo over every Thursday afternoon.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Their monthly meetings at the Dragon’s Den were slightly more inconspicuous, sharing lingering looks across the pub and stolen kisses in the bathroom when nobody was around. After a few months Hermione had even managed to calm the grin that threatened to explode each time she emerged from a snogging session with Parkinson in the bathroom, meaning that Ginny had finally stopped questioning if she was alright. Everything seemed to be going perfectly, and Hermione refused to think it could ever be any other way; </span>
  <span class="s2">neither of them had said anything in so many words but they were going on six months since that first fateful day in the bathrooms. Hermione would likely never admit it, but this was the happiest she had ever been.</span>
</p><p class="p1">“Pass the <em>Quibbler</em>, would you?”</p><p class="p1">“Trade you for the <em>Prophet</em>,” Hermione said as she held out the magazine that she’d been perusing over dinner.</p><p class="p1">Pansy’s eyes lit up as she handed over the newspaper in question. “Today’s edition is quite the salacious read, you know.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, Pans. I think I read the worst of it over Bert’s shoulder while waiting for his 11 o’clock this morning.”</p><p class="p1">Shaking her head as she settled in to critique the <em>Quibbler</em>, Pansy flashed a wicked grin in Hermione’s direction. “You haven’t read it like this, though.”</p><p class="p1">Watching Pansy curl her legs up underneath her and summon a quill from across the room, Hermione smiled. “Shame you weren’t annotating the <em>Prophet</em> back in school. I might have found it more tolerable.”</p><p class="p1">“Who says I wasn’t? You just never had the fortune of reading my genius work back then.”</p><p class="p1">“Actually…” Hermione trailed off, thinking back to Witch Weekly in fourth year. “From what I remember, you were to blame for some of those horrible articles.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, well. You were quite an easy target.”</p><p class="p1">Pansy’s tone was light but Hermione sensed the mood shift around them as they thought back to their schooling years. Sighing, she placed her tea to the side by the <em>Prophet</em> and stood, watching Pansy’s brow furrow.</p><p class="p1">“Are you… Leaving?” She seemed small now, as if melting into the couch cushions. “I didn’t mean to—“</p><p class="p1">At Hermione’s raised hand, she stopped talking. Taking a seat on the couch next to her, Hermione took the <em>Quibbler</em> and quill from Pansy’s hands and placed them by the abandoned food on the coffee table in front of them.</p><p class="p1">“Come here.”</p><p class="p1">Pansy obliged, turning to lay back across the couch with her head in Hermione’s lap. She looked up at Hermione and hummed in contentment as fingers found their way into her hair.</p><p class="p1">Pursing her lips, Hermione took a few moments to think of how best to phrase what she wanted to say. “I know… I know that we weren’t exactly friends at school—“ She shot a glare at Pansy as she snorted at this. “—But we’ve come a long way. I might not like much of what you did, but I do understand a lot of it. What matters to me more is who you are now, and who you are with me.”</p><p class="p1">Rolling her eyes even as she leaned into Hermione’s touch, Pansy sighed. “I’m not entirely sure I deserve this forgiveness. I was entirely awful, and we both know it.”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Not entirely.” At Pansy’s incredulous look, she shrugged and swept a stray curl behind her ears. “For a start, Dumbledore wouldn’t have made you prefect if he thought you were truly evil.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“You Gryffindors always put too much faith in that man,” Pansy said, shaking her head. “He was off his rocker. Batshit crazy, I tell you.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Snorting softly, Hermione ran her fingers through Pansy’s hair again as she shook her head fondly. “You’re not wrong about that. Still…”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I know, I know. The old bugger had his moments.” Sighing, she interlaced her fingers through Hermione’s free hand and looked up at her. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we’d done things differently back then?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I used to,” she admitted. “But now, not so much.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“What changed?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Hearing the doubt and insecurity behind Pansy’s words, Hermione gave her hand a squeeze as she smiled softly down at her. “Everything.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">With another sigh, Pansy rolled her eyes. “No shit. Want to be more specific than that, or must I go on wondering forever?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“You’re an idiot,” Hermione said fondly.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Your idiot,” Pansy murmured with a small smile.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, and that’s exactly what I mean. We wouldn’t have this—“ She gestured to their position on the couch with their intertwined hands. “—if we hadn’t gone through all of that. I know some of it was horrible. Yes, you were pretty horrible.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Pansy laughed, nodding. “I was. I still am, most of the time.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“True,” she said. “But just to keep up appearances.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Mmm,” Pansy agreed as she closed her eyes. “You’re turning me into a sap, Granger.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Leaning forward, Hermione pressed a soft kiss to Pansy’s forehead. “I love it,” she murmured.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Tipping her head back, Pansy sought out lips with hers and Hermione felt the smile against her mouth as they kissed slowly. Yes, the horrors of their schooling years were worth every small moment they shared like this one. She would repeat it all over again for this girl without a moment of hesitation.</span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Remind me again why we started to let these guys sit with us?” Ron asked as he turned to look at Hermione next to him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Because we pay for your drinks?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Malfoy snorted at Pansy’s remark. “No Pansy, <em>I</em> pay for the drinks. You just chat loudly and make everyone feel bad about themselves.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“That’s hardly fair,” she said. “Granger does that too and nobody’s attacking her for it.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“It’s the combination of you that’s dangerous.” Neville piped up from Pansy’s other side.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sure it’s not our fault that you lack the foresight to handle us,” Hermione said as she placed her empty pint glass on the table. “We can’t be held responsible for being clever, after all.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Not again,” Ron groaned. “I’m starting to think we should coordinate to make sure these two aren’t invited along on the same nights.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Pansy let out a snort into her Gillywater while Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that they agree on everything or that we continue to tolerate it.” Neville agreed.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“You’re forgetting Draco and Potter.” Pansy placed her glass onto the table and she looked between the offenders in question. “We’re nowhere near as bad as these two picking fights all the time.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“We don’t fight all the time!” Harry shouted indignantly.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Please, Potter’s hardly a worthy opponent.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The boys continued to bicker as Hermione shot a glance across the table at her girlfriend, smiling as she watched Pansy roll her eyes at whatever nonsense Harry was spouting. She still felt the need to pinch herself some days, half-convinced that she would wake up one morning to find that it had been some twisted dream. How she had lucked out, she had no idea.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Pansy met her eyes across the table and raised an eyebrow as she shook her head fondly. Hermione dropped her eyes as she felt her cheeks heat up before turning away, intending to throw herself into conversation in hopes of seeming less smitten. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I think it’s your round, Pans.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Draco,” Pansy whined. “Mine’s not empty yet.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Well, mine is. So’s Potter’s, and Weasley’s, and other Weasley’s, and—“</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, alright.” Her eyes flicked across the table to where Hermione was trying not to watch her too obviously. “Granger, help me, would you?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Only because I want to finish telling you about what these two got up to last week,” Hermione said to a chorus of groans.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Shooting her a grin that had Hermione’s heart catching in her throat, Pansy stood and began to step past Malfoy towards the bar. “Perfect. Bathroom first, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Lead the way,” Hermione said as she slid by Harry on her left and followed Pansy back to where it all began.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Turning to face Hermione as she made it to the vanity mirror, Pansy placed her hands across her chest and sighed. “Love, you’ve got to be less obvious out there.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Hermione flushed as she looked at Pansy leaning against the bathroom wall. “Was I really that obvious?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“You had that sappy look on your face that you get when we’re together. Adorable, if slightly ill-timed.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“You were being cute!”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Flicking her hair dramatically, Pansy laughed. “Aren’t I always?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, that’s the problem.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Problem? I think you’ll find I’m the opposite of a problem.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Smiling softly, Hermione brushed the loose strands of her girlfriend’s hair back behind her ear as she stepped closer. “You’re not wrong. I just forget sometimes, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Hermione Granger, forgetful? What is the world coming to?” Pansy placed her hands on Hermione’s waist, voice gentle as she spoke next. “It’s just until I finish my course, love.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Just until you’re finished your course,” Hermione agreed.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“And until then,” Pansy said as she pulled on Hermione’s belt loops, pulling their hips flush. “We can continue to do things like this while our friends are in the other room.” She pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Hermione’s mouth, murmuring into it. “You know the boys have their heads too far up their own arses to pay attention to what we’re doing.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Laughing into the kiss, Hermione wrapped both hands around Pansy’s neck and took a moment to enjoy the feel of soft lips against hers. Reminding herself of their friends in the next room, she forced herself to pull back before she got too carried away, drawing a groan from Pansy. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry darling, but we should get back before they make use of their shared brain cell.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Snorting, Pansy stole another quick kiss before stepping back and smoothing out the front of her dress. “At least we don’t have to hide when we’re at La Naen,” she mused.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Hermione dropped her gaze to where her hands were playing with the hem of her sweater before taking a deep breath. “About that… I know your course has two more years, but I’ll be finishing up in the Spring and was planning to start looking for a place around London when I do.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Looking up, she saw Pansy’s eyes widen as the implication hit home.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Like I said, I know it’s a while away but…” She stopped, reaching out to take one of Pansy’s hands. “Would you help me look? I want you to like it, seeing as you’ll be over a fair bit.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, Salazar. I thought you were going to ask me to move back for a moment there.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Hermione laughed softly. “Not yet, Pans.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Well then,” Pansy said as she pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Hermione’s hand in hers. “Of course I’ll help. You’ll need my taste, after all.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Sighing even as she gave a fond smile, Hermione dropped her hand and let Pansy lead the way back out to the dimly-lit pub. Pansy tilted her head towards the bar indicating to Hermione to get the next round while she joined their friends at the booth. She walked over to order for the table and watched Pansy slip between Malfoy and Neville, making a comment that managed to get a laugh from both of them. Her face lit up as she launched into an animated retelling of something that Hermione couldn’t quite hear over the humdrum around them, the picture of entrancement as she captured the attention of her audience. Pausing, she briefly met Hermione’s gaze across the room before giving her a quick wink and turning back to continue enjoying the spotlight.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Feeling warmth spread from her chest throughout her entire being, Hermione smiled to herself as she thanked the barman and began to levitate their drinks back to the table. It was worth it, all of the sneaking around and time spent apart. Hermione knew with absolute certainty that she wouldn’t trade her hidden moments with Pansy for the world.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">She could do this for now, knowing that it guaranteed their forever.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Prompt:</b><br/>Secret relationship, just show how much fun they have sneaking around people's backs and being couple-y behind closed doors/in private<br/>Literally teenagers being little shits and enjoying having their relationship to themselves for a while (stolen kisses, fleeting touches, lingering looks, inside jokes etc.)</p><p>Come say hi on <a href="https://cdav.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> or check out <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdav">my other fics</a> xx</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>🌻 This work is part of Fluff Fest, a Harry Potter-centered fest dedicated to fluffy themes, meet cutes and wholesome vibes.</p><p>If you’ve enjoyed this work, please show love and support to our precious content creators by leaving kudos and comments! 💌</p><p>  <a href="https://hpfluff-fest.tumblr.com/">Feel free to check out the fest's tumblr for more updates. </a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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